


three rings for elf-lords under the sky (and some secret messages for a certain woodland prince)

by mallyrn



Series: past, present, and maybe future [1]
Category: Homestuck, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - LotR Fusion, Bro Strider as Thranduil, Broduil is angsty and has an ironic name, But Where Is Dave?, Calliope as Gandalf, Condesce as Sauron, Davesprite as Legolas Greenleaf, Feferi as Galadriel, Gen, Jake English as Haldir, Jake-Haldir is a dork but we barely see him?? he's important later, Plus Davesprite, Porrim as Elrond, The Three Ringbearers Remember SBURB, geddit IRONIC, wait i nearly forgot my boys!!!???, we don't know why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-30 03:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallyrn/pseuds/mallyrn
Summary: Saurien gave to the Elves three Rings of Power. Of those original Three bearers, One of them remembers. The other Two pass on, as if they were meant to, into the hands of those who did not otherwise belong. And somewhere, in the realm of Eryn Lasgalen - known as 'Greenwood' in the Common Tongue - a young Elvish princeling has an relatively unknown correspondent, who calls themself 'D.''Things on Earth C have gone completely and utterly pear-shaped. Everyone that Sea Hitler didn't send to this weird-ass Cary Elwes "Men In Tights"-style movie set of yours, suddenly popped up right outside my house, all confused and shit. They're wondering where everyone is. Mind writing some sort of explanation speech for me, man? I mean, being the prince in your SBURB-ified DnD session, you'd probably have *some* skill in the matter.'Narolas snorted, mildly insulted at D's sorely inaccurate description of the Greenwood. But of course, he was already grabbing for some parchment and his quill. The first few sentences were already formed and ready to write, having utilizing his mad freestyle rapping skills. Can't leave a bro hanging, can we?





	1. 'completely and utterly pear-shaped'

It'd been a long day of spider-hunting, and Narolas was looking forward to collapsing into the bathtub and soaking half the night. These plans were completely and utterly wrecked, however, by an odd-looking envelope, waiting on the Woodland Prince's pillow.  _Damn you, D._

He knew the sender's _real_ name, of course - but he'd gotten into the habit of calling him 'D', even in the relative privacy of his own mind. In this land of Dark Empresses, Wizards, and the occasional Dragon, one could never be too careful. Narolas knew this all too well.

 

_A flash of teeth, the sound of feathers being torn from his back, a jet black blade dripping scarlet and liquid gold -_

 

The prince stiffened, and shook his head to chase away the memories. Maybe D's letter would be amusing enough to cheer him. Coming level with his bed, he lifted the envelope and tore it open - no need for seals on Earth C.

 

 

_Yo Birdman,_

_I need some help, if its not too much trouble, seeing as you're the Handsome Prince of the Forest now and have **much** better things to do than give your poor, lonely time-clone a hand._

_Things on Earth C have gone completely and utterly pear-shaped. Everyone that Sea Hitler didn't send to this weird-ass Cary Elwes "Men In Tights"-style movie set of yours, suddenly popped up right outside my house, all confused and shit. They're wondering where everyone is. Mind writing some sort of explanation speech for me, man? I mean, being the prince in your SBURB-ified DnD session, you'd probably have **some** skill in the matter._

 

Narolas snorted, mildly insulted at D's sorely inaccurate description of the Greenwood - _'"_ _Men In Tights" set, my ass'_ \- but of course, he was already grabbing for some parchment and his quill. The first few sentences were already formed and ready to write, having utilizing his mad freestyle rapping skills. Can't leave a bro hanging, can we? 

 

_My Poor Lonely Time-clone,_

_I will offer my assistance, as you are too young and incompetent to handle this shindig yourself. But after this, you must grow the fuck up and stop being an attention-seeking baby._

 

Ah, yes. Perfect.

 

Narolas was kind of an asshole, but at least he had fun being one.

 

* * *

 

 

Elsewhere in Middle-Earth, the Lady of Imladris is dealing with a rather....  _vampiric_ problem.


	2. vampires, muses, and the imminent apocalypse... oh my...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a vampire in Middle-Earth is harder than it seems. Luckily, an old friend brings a lovely doomsday prophecy to distract from such woes. Yeah, right... _friend..._

Shifting upwards, and extracting her fangs from the dark elf's throat, Elrien let out her breath as the scarlet liquid pooled on her lower lip. Her latest victim was dead, as had the one before, and the one before that. Cursed with a insatiable need for the blood of her own kind, Elrien had taken to hunting the rogue elves known as Avari, the Unwilling - those who had disobeyed the Valar's call for them to dwell in Aman. Most in Middle-Earth didn't know they even existed. Elrien, of course, knew. All too well.

 

The Lady of Imladris wiped the blood from her mouth and looked about, searching for her horse. She'd picketed the animal a while back, when she had caught the elf's trail.  _Poor man,_ she thought ruefully. In the distance, her horse stamped restlessly. With her elven-sight, she could see the silver-dappled animal, snorting warily as someone approached. Elrien stood quickly.

 

"Elrien?" An old woman's voice reached her ears, and the Lady sighed, relieved, despite her newly tumultuous feelings. She knew that voice, and the woman who it belonged to. And she knew about Elrien's curse. 

She'd loved her once.

 

* * *

 

 

As Elrien approached, the tall old woman studied her from under the brim of her wide, gray hat.

 

"You've been hunting again," Gudrun the Grey observed wryly. "You used to enjoy blood, as I recall. I believe Arda has changed you, Porrim Maryam, however I am not sure it is for the better." Elrien raised one perfect brow, but her expression remained terse, and almost _cold_. "How so, Mithrandis?"

 

"You see!" Gudrun exclaimed. "It's never just Calliope anymore. 'Gudrun' this and 'Mithrandis' that - it's all too formal." The Grey Witch sighed deeply. "As much as I wish it had lasted, there is no sense in moping over it. Especially given our, ah, possibly dire circumstances."

 

Elrien blinked back tears. She wished she could tell Gudrun that she disliked this new formality, too. Their conversations were chilled, and they almost never spoke to one another, unless it was truly urgent. Gudrun's words - 'dire circumstances' - confirmed this trend. "What has happened, Mithrandis?" the dark-haired elleth inquired, keeping her voice remarkably level, despite the tears that had threatened mere seconds earlier. 

 

Gudrun sighed deeply. "The One has been found."

 

The elleth felt light-headed, as if years of holding off her hunt until the last moment, had finally caught up to her. "Are you certain?" she gasped, shaking her head to clear it. Gudrun's expression betrayed her concern at Elrien's current state. 

 

"I am," the Grey Witch replied, and lowered her voice, until even Elrien could barely hear it. "The One is in the possession of young Sora Baggins."  _Right under our noses._ The words hung in the air, unspoken, yet almost tangible in the deafening silence that followed. 

 

"Gollum told the Nine," Elrien said at last. "Didn't he." Her words were barely a question, leaning heavily towards a statement. Gudrun nodded mutely. 

 

"I sent her away... I do not think it would be wise to disclose _where_ , not here in the Wilds. I will bring you more news when I can. I must go." Elrien barely stopped herself from crying,  _Please, not so soon!_ The Witch must have seen something in her face, because her eyes crinkled at the corners in a deep frown. She lingered for a long moment, then leaned forward and gave Elrien a quick peck on the cheek.

 

The Lady of Imladris closed her eyes, feeling frozen and confused - and by such a _simple touch_. When she finally summoned the courage to look, Gudrun was only a speck on the horizon.

 

And even with her elven-sight, Elrien could not begin to tell what the Muse of Space was feeling.

 

* * *

 

 

The One has awoken, and the Lady of the Golden Wood remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **me, an american, trying to consistently spell 'gray' like a british person:** fuck this, what even _is _english, anyone who thinks it's an easy language can suck my invisible _dick___


End file.
